Vigilante
by tinuelena
Summary: While the rest of the Avengers help pick up the pieces of New York City, Natasha visits Loki in his cell to deliver her own brand of punishment before he can be taken back to Asgard. One-shot written for avengerkink.


New York was in shambles.

Natasha knew she should be out there. The rest of the Avengers were helping; Thor, Steve, and Tony were out in the street, rescuing people who were trapped in the rubble. It was a simple task for any one of them to lift huge pieces of concrete over their heads. Bruce, back to his regular-sized self, was out with a medical kit, helping people who were in need of immediate medical attention. And Clint was with the NYPD, helping them get a handle on the looters.

She'd go help Clint after she was done here. She needed to finish something, and she was certain that Thor would take his brother back to Asgard the moment his mission out in the streets was complete. But for now, she was staring at Loki, once again trapped in a prison meant for an unruly Hulk, this one in the subbasement of New York City's SHIELD building.

His lip was split and the wounds on his face hadn't been cleaned, but he still was in good shape, considering what the Hulk had done to him. Natasha had seen Tony's floor. It was in pieces.

"I can tell what you're thinking," he said, by way of greeting.

"You can't," Natasha replied calmly, "but I'll let you guess."

He snorted. "Skip this dancing around, shall we? What information do you want from me? I have no _plan_ this time."

She didn't dignify him with a response. Instead, she activated the one-way forcefield that would allow her to walk into the cell without allowing him to escape.

"Awfully stupid," Loki growled, "stepping into a closed cell with a god you have angered."

"I'm not afraid of you," she told him, staring him down.

He glared back at her.

"Do you want to know what I was thinking?" She stepped closer, dangerously close, so that Loki could feel her breath on his skin. "I was thinking that you don't bruise easily." She traced a cut on his cheek with the tip of her finger. "I was also thinking that I like a challenge." And, reaching back, she slapped him as hard as she could swing.

It stung, and he brought a hand up to his face, frozen with shock for just a second. Then a gleeful smirk appeared. "Oh, you're _fun._" He reached back to punch her, but Natasha expected the move, blocked it, and countered with her own, her feet springing from the floor. Thighs locked around Loki's neck, she brought him to the ground with a crash.

A glint in his eye, he dug his fingers into her thighs and forced them apart to free himself. Turning the tables, he pinned her to the floor beneath him, but she slipped out. He sprang to his feet, facing her with a scowl, and they flew at each other, battling for dominance; Loki was strong, no doubt, but fighting the Avengers- and being flung around by the Hulk- had weakened him just enough for Natasha to come out on top, pinning him to the ground on his side, a knee holding his head to the ground, a fistful of black hair in her palm.

"If you are a god," she panted, "you are the poorest excuse for a god that the universe could conjure." She pressed her knee in harder, making him cry out in pain. "Now, let's talk about _your_ ledger. You've got a lot of red in there. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people... dead because of you." She pushed his face toward the floor, opening the cut on his cheek. "But I'm not here for that. You'll pay for that at the hands of Thor, and the hands of Asgard, and maybe- one day- the hands of Earth."

The pressure of her knee was so sharp that Loki thought his cheekbone would break.

"But you took control of my best friend. The man who saved my life. And you used him against me. That's the debt I'm here to settle. That's what I'm going to make you pay for."

Despite the pain, he grinned. "Love is for children, is it?"

She smashed his face off the cold tile. "Games and tricks are for children. And you impress no one but children with yours." Smoothly, she removed an object from her belt.

Loki regarded her with nothing but contempt. "Toys are for children," he spat, catching a glimpse of the metal contraption in her hand.

"You won't be saying that in a moment," she told him, with a smirk to rival his.

In a flash, she'd sliced through his pants and exposed him down to his knees, cutting just a _little_ too deep, grazing the skin with a long, shallow cut along his hipbone. With one hand, she fixed the metal object- what looked like a small handcuff, fitted with a razor-sharp blade- around the base of his cock. Before he had a chance to wonder what the cord leading from them was for, she'd slapped another pair of handcuffs around his wrists. Then she stood up.

Loki lunged at her, but she tugged gently at the cord, and he froze in place; the cord tightened the cuff around his cock. Another smirk crossed his face as she glared down at him.

"I am going to violate you," Natasha growled. "Slowly. Intimately. In every way you fear."

The echo of his own words sent a chill through his veins that had nothing to do with his Frost Giant heritage.

"I will leave you intact on one condition."

Silently, he waited.

"You will make me come." She pulled the cord slightly. "You will kneel before _me_ and bow your head and proclaim that you are better than no one. That _you_ were made to serve _humanity_ in the only way you can; as a slave. That your silver tongue has _nothing_ to do with devious, brilliant lies, and _everything_ to do with solely existing to give me the pleasure I deserve. And when you are done, you will tell the world." Again, she pulled on the cord; the blade barely touched him, but was sharp enough to draw a trickle of blood. Involuntarily, he cried out; she flew at him, a hand around his throat, her nose an inch from him. _"This is my bargain, you mewling quim."_

Helpless, he nodded. She forced him to his knees and stood up straight.

"Bow your head," she commanded.

He did so.

"Say it."

Loki felt absolutely sick. "I am better than no one," he said, cowed.

"Who are you here to serve?"

He wouldn't meet her eyes. "You. Humanity."

"Look at me when you say it, you pathetic monster."

The insult was a twist of the knife. "I am here to serve humanity."

"What is the purpose of your life?"

"To- to serve you. To give you the pleasure you deserve."

She smirked. "You're a fast learner. There's one thing true about any man, human or Frost Giant- they're putty in your hands when you threaten their dick." Slowly, she took off her belt, taking care to throw it far enough away that Loki couldn't reach it, then took her time unzipping her suit. "Look at me," she commanded, just as he turned his head away to avoid the sight.

He obeyed, eyes taking in the sight as the tight suit separated, exposing flawless, pale breasts, a flat stomach, and the smooth plane of flesh above her folds. She pushed it down just enough for Loki to be able to reach inside of her with his tongue, and stepped closer to the subdued god.

"Serve your purpose," she demanded.

His entire body revolted at the prospect of tasting a human like this- especially _this_ one. He hated her, hated her more than anyone on any world he'd been to, hated that she'd been able to break him in a matter of minutes.

The cord went taut, and the primal fear of losing parts of his body overpowered his revulsion; he leaned into her and slipped his tongue between her folds.

She grabbed him by the hair. "Make it good," she growled. "If I think you're holding back, I will pull."

Frightened into cooperation, he swirled the tip of his tongue around her clit, then flattened it out and began to lick ferociously. She moaned and leaned back against the rounded wall, fingers on her free hand splayed out. He was certainly skilled; and she had the feeling he was channeling all of his anger into his tongue.

She pulled his head to her, forcing him impossibly closer. His nose pressed against her skin; she was breathing hard, and he could just barely see the flush spreading across his skin if he looked up.

Loki thought two things. First, that he still had a chance to be in control; he could bring her just to the brink, so that she was screaming for him to make her come, and then take his tongue away; but he knew, without a doubt, that this woman would just pull the cord as hard as she could and that would be it. The second thought surprised him more; he was _enjoying_ this. He still felt humiliated and used and the rage swelled inside him; but, on the other side of things, she tasted _good_ and the sounds coming from her throat were addictive.

He pressed his tongue upward and curled it at the end, flicking it over her most sensitive spot, and she clawed at the wall, desperately wishing for something to grab. _Silver tongue, indeed; _he was _good_ and she was split between wanting to come and never wanting it to end. Briefly, she had a wild fantasy of kidnapping him for her own uses; or maybe she'd convince Thor to use this as a form of punishment and visit the prison on Asgard to force this on Loki regularly. The thought made her even wetter, and she grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling it, making him moan with pain against her skin.

She was dangerously close, and the one thing she refused to do was say his name; that would ruin the punishment. So she limited herself to the loud moans, the screams, the fingernails digging into his skull, his neck, his shoulders; and as she came, she held his head there, making him taste every last bit of her as she shuddered and gasped and came down. When she couldn't handle anymore, she let go of the line and roughly kicked him away.

Panting, he looked up at her from the ground.

She could barely think, but she collected herself. "That was a privilege I just gave you," she snarled, regaining her breath.

Automatically, he bowed his head. "Thank you."

With a smirk, she zipped up her suit, tapped in the passcode, and strode out, leaving him half-naked and vulnerable in his cell.


End file.
